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"Treinta cocadas, por favor. ¿Y puedo tener eso envuelto para regalo?"
If he was still in the Netherlands, Gakpo would have had a lot of trouble placing his order. He was only fluent in Dutch and English, the latter which he learnt as a teenager. But he wasn't in the Netherlands or England--he was in Colombia, at a small portable candy stall near the Colombia international team's training camp.
Thankfully, nearly a quarter of Gakpo's teammates were from Spanish-speaking countries. Add in the ones that had picked up Spanish from playing in Spain or from those around them, and you ended up with almost half of the team understanding some level of Spanish. Gakpo himself was a fast learner, so he'd picked up enough Spanish to order thirty cocadas for one of his best friends, Luis Diaz.
Currently, Diaz was with the Colombia international team, preparing to play Germany. Gakpo had Skype-called Diaz the day before, but Diaz barely lasted three minutes into the call before falling asleep on-camera. With his fluffy curls and oversized sweatshirt, Diaz looked like a baby lamb. Gakpo laughed and waved goodbye before disconnecting, but he was worried. Diaz had been exhausted from training and the long distance had taken its toll.
After hanging up, Gakpo had packed a single carry-on and booked a ticket to Bogota. He didn't care if the Netherlands had just lost the third-place match, he didn't care if the Colombia national team were a few hours away from heading to the airport. His best friend was exhausted and Gakpo had to cheer him up in person.
Balancing two gift boxes in his hands, Gakpo made the short trip to the hotel and explained who he was here for. Liverpool's popularity in Colombia had only grown since Diaz had moved to the Merseyside club--which is why Gakpo found himself surrounded by about a dozen fans.
"Dame un foto, por favor!"
"Aqui! Aqui, chico!"
"Cody, te amo!"
Jezus Christus. This was crazy. At this rate, he'd never get to Diaz's room. Worse yet, the fans seemed to be getting more and more. The yelling started to make his ears ring. He was starting to feel overwhelmed, and he would probably say something he'd later regret if he stayed there a second longer.
Gakpo rotated his head rapidly, searching for an exit. Every one of them was either blocked or used for emergencies only. That was when he saw something: an accordion.
Before the impending voice of logic in his brain could tell him that this was probably a terrible idea, Gakpo grabbed the accordion and started playing. He had never touched an accordion in his life before, but he'd played piano before, so he had a hint as to what he was doing. The fans stopped clamoring for pictures and autographs and stared at Gakpo, who was doing a nervous jig as he stumbled through a vallenato tune.
"Lo siento, me tengo que ir! Tengo un amigo para reconstruir!" Gakpo had no idea what he was singing, or even what he was dancing. He started rapping in Spanish, surprising himself by how much he'd remembered from Kirkby.
"Arequipe y cocadas, tengo que hacer una piña colada! Yo no sabía que ella bailaba así, aquella noche yo me enloquecí! Como se llama?"
"SI!" the entire crowd shouted as if they knew the song.
Gakpo shrugged and carried on, bouncing back and forth as he played the accordion. "Bonita!"
"SI!"
Out of nowhere, a four-person band popped up and started playing lively, jaunty music to match Gakpo's accordion. "Mi casa!"
"Shakira! Shakira!"
So that's why they know this song so well. Gakpo tried not to blush as he pressed nine wrong notes at the same time. He'd accidently been singing part of "Hips Don't Lie".
The band started to sing in his place, distracting the crowd from his disastrous accordion playing. Gakpo waved to the bassist as a way of thanks, and the bassist winked before handing him a piece of paper. Gakpo unfolded it and smiled; the bassist had handed him Diaz's room number.
*
When Gakpo reached Diaz's door, all the thoughts and doubts that should've happened before he bought his ticket to Bogota started to manifest right then and there.
What if Diaz had a roommate who thought this was weird? Gakpo couldn't do anything about that. He'd walk in and go out, leaving Diaz to explain everything in what was undoubtedly better Spanish than his display earlier.
What if something happened in the Netherlands while he was gone? Gakpo would never forgive himself. Even though Van Dijk could be weird sometimes, he was always friendly.
What if Diaz hated both cocadas and arequipe? Highly unlikely; back in England, Diaz ate coconut-flavored stuff as if coconuts would go extinct soon. When Thiago had finally perfected his coconut cake recipe, Diaz enjoyed three large slices before falling asleep from his full stomach.
On that note, Gakpo didn't remember anybody he'd met so far who hated caramel. Van Dijk loved the stuff (as Gakpo had found out for himself when he bumped into Van Dijk at one in the morning, sneaking caramel candies from Nemmer’s candy jar) and Gakpo himself would never refuse a caramel-covered apple.
Shut up, brain, Gakpo scolded himself as he knocked on the door. Of course Lucho will be happy to see me. We’re friends, we even have our own secret handshake!
An exhausted-looking Diaz opened the door, yawning as he did so. When he looked up at the man in front of him, he blinked heavily before stepping back and almost falling over. He wore the same sweatshirt from the previous night's video call.
"Cody?" Diaz's eyes brightened tenfold as he realized that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. "Is that really you?"
Gakpo wasted no time wrapping Diaz in a tight embrace. He swore the Colombian couldn't get any lamb-like than this, with his curls sticking every which way. "I flew in from Rotterdam. You seemed so tired yesterday, I thought you needed a pick-me-up.”
“Pick-me-up? Que es?” Diaz led Gakpo into the room, muttering something in Spanish as he cleared a couple of jackets off the bed. Gakpo sighed in relief when he noticed that the room only had one twin-sized bed.
Gakpo grinned, handing Diaz the two boxes. Diaz perked up, tearing the wrapping paper apart. His expression was unreadable when he saw the arequipe in a glass jar, tied with a yellow and blue spotted ribbon.
"Lucho?"
Diaz looked up from his box, holding the jar of arequipe. "How did you know that I like arequipe?"
"You do?" Gakpo chuckled, relieved that he'd made the right choice. "I was worried that you hated it and that I'd mess up."
"Cody, I loved this as a kid. I'd eat it straight out of the jar." Diaz set the arequipe down on the coffee table and smiled. "And you could never mess up, Cody. I'd be happy if you gave me anything. All I wanted to do is see you here."
"Getting a little sappy, aren't we now?" Gakpo joked, taking the cocadas out of their packaging. "What about...a Tottenham shirt?"
Diaz rolled his eyes, hugging Gakpo tightly. The height difference between them made it slightly comical, but even the most oblivious bystander could see the genuine affection between them. "Gracias, parcero."
"De nada ...but what the heck does that mean?"